Wading Versus Drowning. Week 3: Thursday. Prompt: Family.
x-posted @ charloft.


I always thought that I was the well-adjusted one, that I was the one with the ability to cope with any situation. I look at Fender, how she has to cater to Malice after his episodes; I am so grateful to not have that kind of attachment. He lies on the floor, shuddering and whimpering and cowering like a kicked dog, wailing at every touch. Fender tries to reassure him as she attempts to stroke his hair, whispering little encouragements to him though she knows it’s impossible to penetrate the ball of misery he’s surrounded himself with when he’s like this. In an hour, he’ll be fine, like it never happened, but for now he’s in pretty pathetic shape. Fender cares for him more like a frightened child or favourite pet than a lover. He’s truly useless and weak, and he makes her even more useless and weak by allowing this madness to overtake him and arrest her attention from what matters. Yet… at least she is needed, someone needs her, and she has someone to care for in return. I don’t have that.

Sometimes, I can’t remember why I’m here. I forget what year it is, forget where I was born. I think that Malice ties Fender to this time and place, letting her be the rational one. I find myself jealous of that. I’m jealous of the mortal fake families on the television. My own lack of companionship in my own house surrounded by both childre and grandchildre makes me feel like I’m drowning in a vast sea, losing my grip on the last piece of driftwood that is my sanity.

I miss Jacques. Without him here, it was though he never really existed. We were together for fifty years, and we’ve been apart for thirty, yet everything feels like a dream. Jacques was my lover, my brother, my dearest friend. He was the only creature in this world that made me feel connected, and I don’t think I’ll ever get that feeling back.